


you're warm static floating (or some sweet candy coating)

by ottelis



Series: samjosh one shot series [2]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also there's like one single moment of angst and that's it i promise, but sam is a very caring and patient boyfriend who loves josh more than anything, josh has the flu and he's being real pathetic about it, sort of sequel to the last tww one shot i wrote idk im just lazy at this point, there'll be a decent amount of west wing shenanigans too dw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27155983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottelis/pseuds/ottelis
Summary: "You're warm," Sam remarks, kissing Josh's forehead again."And you know this... how?" Josh asks lamely, his eyelids heavy."Well, your lips usually stay the same temperature," Sam explains, his tongue unraveling itself again like he does when he goes on one of his long-winded (but adorable, Josh usually says) rants. "Unless you eat ice or something, then obviously they're freezing cold. But your hands change temperature all the time, so they're not very accurate gauges when measuring a fever. Lips are. So, I kissed your forehead just now and, to my lips, you feel warm."Josh blinks. "I have a fever?"Sam sighs. "Most likely."...title from "tiny souls in my eyelashes" by infinity crush
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Sam Seaborn
Series: samjosh one shot series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017333
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	you're warm static floating (or some sweet candy coating)

**Author's Note:**

> hello again. i still have so many dumb and humongous feelings for these dumb white politicians so im writing yet another one shot.
> 
> here's a lil mini playlist for this one shot bc i have a problem:
> 
> tiny souls in my eyelashes - infinity crush  
> garden song - phoebe bridgers  
> golden - harry styles  
> hannah hunt - vampire weekend
> 
> a quick content warning for a very brief discussion of suicide

Sam tends to wake with the sun, and as summer wages with its own kind of dawn, he's waking up earlier and earlier every day. He doesn't mind much, though. He gets to watch Josh sleep a little longer. 

Don't get him wrong, though; Josh isn't a  _ pretty _ sleeper. But Sam thinks he's adorable when he sleeps. His mouth is always slightly open, his eyebrows slightly raised, as if his dreams are magnificent puzzles that only he can solve behind closed eyelids. Knowing Josh, he probably dreams of maps of the Senate and House floors, seeing flashing red and blue lights, seeing comic-style speech bubbles declaring "yea" or "nay"—making the lights change colors or the bubbles flip to their other side. Sam always wishes he could kiss and close Josh's mouth, then his eyebrows would fall back into place, and the puzzles, brilliant as they are, would finally be solved and he can finally, peacefully sleep. But something always stops him.

This morning, though, Josh seems deeper in sleep than usual. His lips are barely parted, and his eyebrows seem to sink a little lower than they're supposed to. Any other morning, Sam would be overjoyed that Josh is seemingly getting some decent sleep, but he needs to be awake in thirty minutes. He'll undoubtedly be grumpy (well, grumpier than usual) when Sam wakes him up, and it'll undoubtedly be a bad day at the White House today. 

Sam tries to ease Josh out of his deep sleep. Not wake him up, of course, but start to coax him back into consciousness. He traces small patterns between Josh's shoulder blades with a touch lighter than a feather, but stops suddenly when Josh shudders. Sam holds his breath, but Josh groans and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Good morning," Sam greets, trying to sound chipper (and not guilty for accidentally waking Josh up too early). 

"Morning," Josh mumbles, shifting in Sam's arms. His voice is thick, slightly thicker than it usually sounds when he first wakes up. "What time is it?" 

"5:30," Sam answers, losing his optimistic tone.

Josh groans again, but it's more of a pathetic bellow. He lifts his head from Sam's chest only to thud back against it, not hard enough to hurt but enough to knock a bit of a wind out of Sam's lungs.

"I know," Sam can't help but chuckle, breathless and weaving his hand through Josh's hair. "It's too early."

"Too early," Josh echoes, his voice muffled by Sam's shirt. " _ Way _ too early." 

"We don't have to start getting ready for another thirty minutes, you can close your eyes until then, babe," Sam smiles, kissing the top of Josh's head. He pauses, though, feeling a heat that usually isn't there. Sam carefully lifts Josh's head so he can press his lips closer to the center of his forehead, and the heat is slightly stronger. 

"What is it?" Josh grumbles, trying to lay his head back down.

"You're warm," Sam remarks, kissing Josh's forehead again.

"And you know this... how?" Josh asks lamely, his eyelids heavy.

"Well, your lips usually stay the same temperature," Sam explains, his tongue unraveling itself again like he does when he goes on one of his long-winded ( _ but adorable _ , Josh usually says) rants. "Unless you eat ice or something, then obviously they're freezing cold. But your hands change temperature all the time, so they're not very accurate gauges when measuring a fever. Lips are. So, I kissed your forehead just now and, to my lips, you feel warm."

Josh blinks. "I have a fever?"

Sam sighs. "Most likely."

"Okay but," Josh begins, looking up at Sam with bleary, misty eyes. Sam can't help but admire how beautiful they are, even covered with a veil. The richest soil, the darkest coffee. "How can you  _ talk _ this much  _ this _ early in the morning?"

"I'm a morning person, you know that," Sam smiles cheekily, blush bleeding into his cheeks. "And my genius helped alert me to the fact that you have a fever. You wouldn't survive without me."

The corner of Josh's mouth quirks ever so slightly, a ghost of a dimple appearing like a shadow beside it. "No, I wouldn't." 

Sam, as carefully as he can, flips Josh onto his back, barely pinning him down. He kisses Josh softly, never going in too deep in case Josh needs to catch his breath. Josh's mouth is warmer with the fever now, too, but the remnants of his puzzling dreams still taste the same resting on the tip of his tongue—like the dregs of coffee at the bottom of a mug, like the last puff of a cigarette before it dissolves into ash. Sam thinks, for a fleeting moment, that he could fall back asleep on top of Josh and let the day—and hopefully Josh's fever—fade by degrees.

"You can't come into work today," Sam says as he pulls away. He nestles next to Josh's body, finding the spot that always fits him just right. "Not with a fever anyway."

"I'm the Deputy Chief of Staff, Sam," Josh replies, exhaling deeply. "My job is kind of important." 

"I know," Sam concedes, his fingertips whispering along the slope of Josh's collarbone. "But you have a fever." 

"Let me call Leo and see what he says," Josh says after a moment. "Can you get my phone for me?" 

"Sure," Sam nods, giving Josh a quick kiss on the cheek. He awkwardly climbs over Josh to reach the nightstand on the other side of the bed, where Josh's phone is resting. He hands it to him, staying sat up until Josh is done with his call.

"Hey, sorry to wake you, Leo—" Josh stops abruptly, biting his lip as he listens to Leo on the other line. "No, a war didn't break out. I'm pretty sure I'm sick because I'm pretty sure I have a fever. However, you  _ could _ say a war has broken out in my immune system so it  _ is _ pretty important, actually."

Sam stifles a chuckle, shaking his head. He really,  _ really _ loves Josh sometimes, in the most random and stupid and wonderful moments. 

"I mean, it's not even 6 o'clock yet so no doctor's offices are open, but I can get a check-up and see if they find something legitimately, medically wrong with me," Josh shrugs, pressing against the corners of his eyes. "'Kay... I understand, Leo… Thanks." He sighs deeply as he pulls his phone away from his ear, shutting his eyes. "You wanna know what he said, Sam?"

"What'd he say, Josh?" Sam asks, tilting his head.

"He said that if I feel well enough to make my  _ idiotic jokes _ that I'm well enough to come in to work," Josh huffs, opening his eyes only to roll them. "But I should still go to an urgent care and see if I do indeed have some sort of disease, but if I don't, I should report to work within 15 minutes, no matter where I am in town."

"That sounds like Leo," Sam nods, letting his smile overcome his face. "Do you want me to take you somewhere?"

"You have to go to work, too, Sam," Josh shakes his head. "I'll be fine, I can drive myself to the urgent care. I'm not a baby."

Sam raises his eyebrows. "If you  _ are _ sick, then I beg to differ." 

"What's  _ that _ supposed to mean?" Josh asks, incredulous. His awe doesn't last long though when he starts coughing, deep and wet, the force of it making his whole body tremble.

"Congratulations, Josh, you've just made my point for me," Sam tries to joke, rubbing Josh's back. "I can take part of the day off to take you to a doctor. Toby has a whole speechwriting staff and, like, 20 assistants. He'll be fine."

"Please don't take the whole day off, though," Josh mumbles, lying down and resting his head in Sam's lap. "You can take me home afterwards and I'll just sleep. I am…" he trails off, his eyes drifting shut. His eyebrows raise, though, as he finds the words he'd lost for a moment. "Inconsolably tired."

"And you were gonna drive like this," Sam smiles, trying to sound disappointed. Unfortunately for him, his laughter betrays him. 

"Okay,  _ maybe _ I'm  _ slightly _ incapacitated," Josh admits, sniveling.  _ "Maybe." _

"Maybe," Sam entertains him, his heart warming when he sees Josh smile. "How about I make us some tea?" 

"But then you won't be able to hold me anymore," Josh grumbles, his face souring. "I'm gonna be in this big, cold bed. All alone. You're gonna do that to me?" 

Sam shrugs. "Yeah." 

Josh's eyes fly open, his jaw dropping like a stone. He tries to sit up, but he's overwhelmed with another coughing fit. Between coughs, he declares what sounds an awful lot like,  _ I hate you, Samuel Norman Seaborn. _

"And I love you, Joshua Lyman," Sam returns. It doesn't have the same ring to it without a middle name to include, but his mouth can't help but smile as he says the words. He gently lifts Josh's head (who groans pathetically in protest) and lays it back down on the bed, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. Josh weakly lifts his hand to weave it into Sam's hair, pulling him closer. Sam pulls away gradually as he steps off the bed, until Josh can't sit up enough to keep him close. Josh's hand slowly slips out of the maze of Sam's hair, falling limply on top of his chest. 

Sam kneels by the bed, taking another moment to stare at Josh, who's staring back with a tired yet pleading look. Sam takes Josh's hand, kissing his knuckles. "I'll just be in the kitchen." 

"Mmkay," Josh sighs, half-smiling again. 

Sam squeezes Josh's hand before letting go and standing up. When he glances over his shoulder as he crosses the threshold, he sees Josh tug on the covers until he's almost completely under them. Sam smiles to himself, then crosses to the kitchen. 

He huffs when he sees the sink full of dirty dishes, remembering that he forgot to wash them before he and Josh went to sleep the night before. He quickly fills up the kettle and sets it on the warm stove, deciding he has a few minutes to start the dishes before it starts to boil. Making his boyfriend a big, hearty dinner because he was feeling under the weather was an amazing idea at the time, but the consequences of it never fully entered Sam's mind. Josh ate a good bit despite him complaining he didn't have much of an appetite, and perhaps that combined with his sickness sent him into the arms of sleep more quickly than usual, and Sam wasn't about to let Josh sleep alone. He washes all the bigger pots and pans first, reasoning that those were more urgent than the small crowds of utensils and cups sitting on the counter. He only gets through half of them when the kettle starts whistling, but that was better than not getting any done at all.

He studies the several boxes of teabags that have been collecting dust in his pantry, unsure what Josh would want. He manages to gather them all into his arms, walking back to the bedroom to ask Josh himself.

Josh is still buried beneath the covers, and doesn't seem to notice Sam walking in. Sam approaches him quietly, smiling when he sees that Josh is asleep, with that same old puzzled look on his face.

Sam leans down and kisses Josh's forehead, giving him all his support for whatever Congressional matter he has to resolve for this sleep.

**…**

The White House is crowded when Sam arrives after dropping Josh back off at his apartment, even though it's just past 7 o'clock. Donna is waiting for him in the lobby, looking anxious and concerned. She scurries up to him as he swipes his ID card, her hands knitting together.

"He just has the flu?" she asks tensely, biting her lip.

"Yeah," Sam nods. "And a fever of 102, so I took him home. Doctor's orders." 

Donna relaxes a little, but her shoulders are still hunched forward. "Have you told Leo?" 

"I made sure Josh called before I left," Sam replies, relieved when another load of tension lifts from Donna's shoulders.

"My question is," she begins, slightly shaking her head. "What am I supposed to do all day? I'm Josh's assistant, and Josh is bursting into flames as we speak."

"He shouldn't be," Sam reassures her. "I doped him up on Tamiflu before I left, too. And I plan on calling whenever he's ready for another dose so his fever can keep going down. He won't burst into flames on my watch." 

Donna rolls her eyes, but she has an easy, amused smile on her face. "Okay, Mrs. Lyman, but seriously, what am I gonna do all day?"

Sam smiles back at her, chuckling at her teasing. "Talk to some of the deputies, see what they need you to do. And if you have nothing to do, you're welcome to hang out at my office."

Donna's eyebrows shoot up. "Really?" 

"Of course," Sam replies, thinking it was obvious. 

"Maybe we could write a speech together," she suggests, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "Maybe they'll give me Toby's job." 

"No, I'll take Toby's job, and you can have mine," he corrects, his smile widening. 

"Wait, you're not gonna get sick, right?" Donna asks, lowering her voice.

"Why would I get sick?" Sam laughs. Donna's known that him and Josh are together for almost as long as they  _ have _ been together. She found out in the worst way possible (i.e. walking in on them at Sam's birthday party in a…  _ compromising _ position), but after the initial shock, she was more than supportive of them.

"I know about the little weekend you had planned," she whispers, as if the statement would compromise national security.

Sam scoffs. "I feel fine, Donna. If I'm gonna get sick, I think I would have by now. Besides, I have a nearly perfect immune system. I take my vitamins."

Donna folds her arms, sighing. "Fine. I'll hang out in your office later."

"Great," Sam beams, giving her a teasing, too-tight hug. He claps her shoulder as he pulls away. "Now go see what those deputies need. See you."

"See you," Donna returns, giving him a small wave as she wanders down the opposite hallway. 

Sam waves back, making his way to the communications bullpen. He glances at the TVs as he crosses over to his office, thankfully finding nothing out of the ordinary or too earth-shattering. He sees that Toby's door is open, and that he's scratching furiously on a notepad. Sam lingers by the door, waiting to see if Toby would notice him, but a minute goes by and Toby hasn't even looked the slightest bit away from whatever he's working on. Sam clears his throat, which does catch Toby's attention.

"About time you got here," Toby greets, looking back down at his notepad. "The President is speaking at a charity event tomorrow morning and I need you to write his remarks for me."

"An event for… which charity, exactly?" Sam asks, stepping inside Toby's office. 

Toby looks up at the ceiling then, his lips moving and eyes flitting left and right and left and right. Sam doesn't blame him. There's always some event they need to write remarks for, it's easy for everything to get mixed up in your mind. "Something about tutoring programs in inner city schools."

Sam nods, sighing. "I can work with that. I haven't missed the senior staff meeting, right?"

Toby looks at his watch. "Not until 8. Liz came in early this morning for a short visit. Abbey wanted them all to have breakfast together at the residence."

"Liz came?" Sam asks, pleasantly surprised. Then he remembers her usual entourage and his smile drops. "Alone, right?"

"Well, I haven't heard Doug overexplaining some of the most basic principles of government to any of the assistants yet, so I'm assuming she's alone," Toby answers rather flatly. "I never understood how him and Josh are all buddy-buddy. Actually, Doug may be in Josh's office. At least he's not in this side of the building."

"Josh had to call in sick," Sam tells Toby, trying to keep his tone neutral. "He has the flu." 

Toby gently lays his pen down on the notepad, his head slowly rising to look up at Sam. "The flu?"

"Yeah," Sam confirms, wary. 

"Please tell me he's coughing up mucus that could be mistaken for toxic waste," Toby commands with his usual, scary evenness. "And that's why he's called in sick." 

Sam bites his lip, shrugging helplessly. "He has a high fever. He saw a doctor and he was told to stay home today. He called Leo, and Leo said he was cleared to take the day off." 

Toby taps his pen against his notepad, pursing his lips. "Well, you could've opened with Leo." 

"I could have, yes," Sam agrees, nodding. "Toby, is… something happening that we  _ really _ need Josh for?"

"We always need Josh, Sam," Toby replies. "He is the  _ Deputy Chief of Staff _ , after all." 

"He should be back and at the top of his game tomorrow," Sam promises, praying it won't be an empty one. "It's just the worst of it today. You know how the flu is." 

"What, he could drive himself to the doctor but he couldn't come into work?' Toby laughs humorlessly.

"No, I drove him to the doctor from my place—" Sam begins, cutting himself off abruptly when he realizes what he's saying. He bites his lip, standing up straighter.

Toby's face is blank, but his eyes are boring into Sam.

Sam tries to relax, laugh dismissively. "Yeah. We're like brothers, right? And when your brother is sick, you take him to the doctor. And then you take him home so he can get some rest." 

"Right," Toby says, still not betraying his inner thoughts. 

"I'm gonna go start that speech now." 

"Thank God."

Sam leaves Toby's office, nearly tripping despite the five foot distance he had to walk to get there. He plops into his chair at his desk, burying his face in his hands. 

"You know  _ you're _ the one who made it weird, right, Sam?" Toby calls, his voice still monotone. 

Sam doesn't reply, instead rubbing furiously at his eyes, hopelessly trying to wake himself up from what must be a nightmare. 

**…**

"Good morning, Mr. President," the senior staff greets as they file into the Oval Office.

"Where's Josh?" Bartlet asks as he scans the room, taking off his glasses.

"He has the flu, sir," Leo replies. "He's gonna try his best to get better and be back tomorrow."

Bartlet nods, sitting down in his chair. "All right, then. What have we got today?" 

"There's…  _ rumors _ going around on the Hill," Leo begins, sighing deeply. The whole room tenses slightly, everyone's backs straightening. "A congresswoman from Nebraska is trying to garner some support on an environmental protection bill she seems to think will single-handedly halt climate change in its tracks."

"Why only rumors? Who's she talking to?" Bartlet asks, his brows furrowed.

"The House Republicans are going to be strongly opposed to it. We think she's testing the waters."

"But who is she talking to?" Bartlet repeats, leaning back in his chair. "Vulnerable Democrats? Liberal Republicans?"

"From what we've heard she's avoiding Republicans, even the ones she could convince to hop the fence. She's a vulnerable Democrat herself, so it looks like she's trying to get Democrats with a bit more footing in their districts on her side."

"Okay," Bartlet nods. "We need to talk to her. We'll have to send one of Josh's deputies since he's not here."

"We have a good staff over there," Leo replies. "It should be fine. But if this continues for a while, we need to get Josh on board once he's back at work." 

"And we won't offer our support on anything, right?"

Leo shakes his head. "Not until there's a bill written and proposed on the floor. I'll be sure to tell Josh and whoever goes up to the Hill today to get information but remain discreet and neutral. We need to know what's actually going on before we jump into legislation we may not agree with in the end."

"Good thing Josh's middle name is Discreet," he jokes dryly, earning a light chuckle from the room. He looks over at the others, smiling warmly. "Anything else? Hit me with your best shot, guys, I'm in a good mood today." 

"Sam and I are gonna be doing some speechwriting today," Toby replies, glancing at Sam. "He'll take care of your remarks at that charity event tomorrow, and I'll be focusing on your remarks at the Ambassadors' Dinner on Friday."

Bartlet's smile drops as a confused look casts its shadow across his face. "What charity event?" he asks quietly, leaning towards Sam.

"It's just a fundraiser," Sam responds. "It's a program that funds after-school tutoring in inner city schools. We have a chance to further our stance on education, and I plan on taking full advantage of that, sir."

Bartlet's smile returns. "Feel free to send me any drafts you have throughout the day. Just make sure Toby reads them, too."

"Yes, sir." Sam nods. 

"I'm hearing a lot this morning that the press will focus on a story about a college student who committed suicide a few weeks ago," C.J. begins when Bartlet nods at her. "His parents have come forward and said they believe their son's suicide was a result of the music he was listening to."

Bartlet sighs, shaking his head. "I'm sorry for their loss, but we went over this issue in Congress almost two decades ago."

"There's a bit of a problem, sir," C.J. replies, careful not to interrupt the President. "He abandoned his conservative upbringing when he started college and aligned himself with the Democratic party. He was very active in student political organizations, his friends say he was planning on voting for  _ you _ in his very first presidential election, and… he attended our Rock the Vote event in Boston."

Bartlet nods slowly. "Okay." He doesn't say his next question, but it still hangs in the air:  _ And? _

"We had a band perform there called Diamondback Whale, and that's the band his parents say drove him to suicide." C.J. speaks slowly, deliberately; the only way you can when you realize you've been caught in a corner. "They know they can't exactly sue  _ you _ , but we have word they're planning on suing Diamondback Whale as well as Rock the Vote."

"Who in the White House is getting involved?" Bartlet asks in the tone he uses when he's expecting a  _ very specific answer _ .

"Technically, only me since I'm the Press Secretary and I'll be asked about it," she replies, and thankfully it's the answer Bartlet is looking for. "This will likely stay in local courts unless we end up having the same situation we did almost two decades ago."

"You know what to say if you get asked about this?"

"The President sends his condolences to his parents after this terrible tragedy, but at the moment, the White House legally cannot get involved in the case as it has not yet reached the federal level."

"Good," Bartlet encourages. He sighs, setting his notebook aside and leaning forward. He stares down at the Presidential seal on the carpet, a thoughtful glaze filling his eyes for a moment. "Do we know if there's any other reason why he would commit suicide? Failing grades, isolation?"

"We don't know at the moment," C.J. replies. "His parents are persisting that the music he was listening to encouraged him to take his own life."

"A person who isn't already suicidal doesn't  _ become _ suicidal just by listening to a song," Sam says, his voice coming out in a huff.

"The parents are obviously in denial," Toby shrugs. "Either they were a factor in their son's suicide, or they feel guilty for not doing something and are looking for someone else to blame."

Leo and Bartlet—the only parents in the room—seem tense at the nature of this story, but nod in agreement as the others discuss it. The discussion is short, though, and a strange silence fills the Oval Office.

"It's quiet in here without Josh," Bartlet observes, his voice hushed.

Sam bites back a smile. Josh is gonna get a kick out of that when he tells him about it. 

"It is," Leo echoes, glancing at Josh's usual spot on the couch right next to him. 

"I'm probably gonna call him when I get back to my office," Sam says, a bit more quietly than he intends. He tries to ignore the feeling of Toby staring at him. "Check and make sure he's doing okay." 

"He's a big boy," Bartlet dismisses with a wave of his hand. "He just has the flu." 

A blush is suddenly burning in Sam's cheeks, too bright and too hot to put out quickly or easily.

"No offense, sir," C.J. replies, her words stifled by chuckles. "But I've seen Josh sick before and he's like a mewling kitten that hasn't opened its eyes yet desperately trying to find its mother's teat before it starves, both of food  _ and _ attention." 

Sam snorts, covering his face with his hands. 

"She's not wrong," Toby says, starting to laugh, too. 

"Seriously?" Bartlet asks, genuinely puzzled, looking between his senior staff. "He has one of the most stressful and demanding jobs in the country and he can't get over the flu?" 

"You've never seen him sick, sir?" Sam asks through his giggles.

"I don't think so," Bartlet shrugs. He shakes his head, beginning to chuckle himself. "You know what, get out of my office and do your jobs. Don't ruin my good mood."

C.J., Toby, and Sam thank the President but stumble out of the office in a collective fit of giggles Well, C.J. and Sam are the ones giggling. Toby, though, shakes his head fondly as he bites back his own laughter. 

"Good meeting today?" Charlie smiles, looking up from a file. 

"Oh, yes," Toby replies, almost gleeful. "It's always a good meeting when we can have some light joking at Josh's expense." He walks out, most likely heading back to his office.

"Where  _ is _ Josh?" Charlie asks. "I haven't seen him today."

"He's home sick with the flu," C.J. replies, giggling again.

Charlie's eyebrows shoot up, his lips breaking into another smile. "Oh," he says simply. "We didn't leave him alone, right? I don't know if I trust him by himself if he's like that."

"He'll be fine," Sam reassures. "He'll probably spend most of the day sleeping. Besides, he only gets pathetic when there's other people there that can do things for him."

"And no one's there to do that," Charlie finishes, nodding.

"Exactly," Sam nods back. "I'm sure he'll survive the day."

"Let's hope so," Charlie sighs. "Josh still owes me lunch from that bet we made weeks ago."

C.J. and Sam share a look, not remembering hearing about a bet. They shrug and say a quick good-bye to Charlie, leaving the room and walking down the hallway.

"You're not gonna tell Josh about what I said, right?" C.J. asks, seeming nervous now.

"Why not? He'll think it's hilarious," Sam replies. "He might be offended at first, but I think he'll end up laughing about it."

"You're sure?" C.J. raises her eyebrows, slightly skeptical. 

"Yeah, I'm sure," Sam nods. "Actually, I can see it now: silence on the other line, then Josh will say 'I am  _ not _ ', then silence again, and  _ then _ he'll say 'okay, that's funny'."

C.J. considers, imagining it, too. Then she smiles. "You know what, I can see it, too. I wanna be in on that phone call."

"He'll  _ definitely _ be upset about that," Sam laughs. "I can let you know if our prediction is correct."

"I would like to know as soon as you do," C.J. replies, lightly poking her finger into his chest. She chuckles and waves goodbye as she walks into her office. 

Sam scans the bullpen for Donna, and quickly finds her talking passionately with one of the deputies, pointing out paragraphs in a thick manual. Sam smiles to himself, glad she isn't feeling useless.

When he walks back over to his office, he shuts the door behind him, eager to call Josh. He turns on his laptop first, knowing he won't get anything done if he stays on the phone with Josh all day. He's already started the speech for tomorrow, but only had about a half hour to work on it. He secretly hopes Josh will ask him what he's working on so he can read it aloud. 

The phone rings several times before Josh finally answers. "Samuel, my darling, my life, my love, my heart, I love you more than anything in this world—dare I say the universe, dare I say my own  _ mother _ —but how  _ dare _ you wake me up at this hour?"

"It's 9 in the morning," Sam replies, chuckling.

"I've only been asleep for like an hour, though," Josh grumbles, sighing exasperatedly. "I'm assuming you're coming back to report on what's happening at  _ La Casa Blanca _ ."

"Yes, but I was also planning on checking up on you, babe," Sam replies. "But clearly you're not doing great. Is the medicine not working?"

"No, it is, because it put me to sleep," Josh sighs. "What's happening up there, though?" 

"Well, when you get back you'll potentially have an environment bill to deal with on the Hill," Sam begins, waiting for Josh's reaction.

"Who's starting it?" Josh asks warily.

"Some vulnerable Congresswoman from Nebraska," Sam shrugs. "She's trying to get some of the stronger Democrats on her side, and you can't blame her. The President said we're not gonna push anything yet, not until we know what this bill would entail."

"Yeah," Josh agrees, sounding tired. "I just can't believe Congress is functioning business as usual even though I'm not there to piss off every single person there. Even the aides and the interns."

"Because clearly Congress didn't exist until you came into the White House," Sam plays along, blushing slightly. 

"Exactly!" Josh replies. "Who invented Congress?"

"Joshua Lyman," they answer at the same time and with equal fervor. 

_ "Thank you,"  _ Josh tells him, relieved that  _ someone _ agrees with him. 

It's a bold statement for someone who works in the White House, but Sam doesn't think there's anything that could happen that could wipe away the smile on his face right now. "I love you," he says, the words more familiar than his own name.

"I love you, too," Josh returns, his voice soft.

"Do you wanna know what everyone had to say about you in the meeting today?" Sam asks, his smile widening into a beam. 

"Do I?" Josh asks, chuckling.

"The President says it's quiet without you in there," he begins. "And it is. Weirdly quiet. The room feels so much bigger, too, without you taking up so much space."

"How do I take up space?" Josh asks, his voice fond.

"By just being yourself," Sam replies sweetly. "Also you tend to take up way too much space on the couch because you sit funny."

"I do  _ no _ _t_ ," Josh scoffs, but still laughing.

"You kind of do, hon," Sam replies. "But anyways, the President said you were a big boy and that you could handle the flu."

"Oh?" Josh hums, waiting for his ego to be boosted.

"But then C.J. said, and I quote, 'I've seen Josh sick before and he's like a mewling kitten that hasn't opened its eyes yet desperately trying to find its mother's teat before it starves, both of food  _ and _ attention.'"

Silence. "I am  _ not _ ," Josh replies indignantly, his voice rising at least two octaves. Silence again, and Sam can just imagine Josh's brow furrowing, his lips parting, then spreading into the smallest smile. "Okay, that's funny." 

Sam pumps his fist, suddenly filled with excitement to deliver the good news to C.J. "Isn't it?" he asks, trying to hide said excitement. 

"It is," Josh agrees, his voice somehow softer now. "I'm sorry, Sammy, but the meds are starting to work again. I'd like to get some sleep."

"Get some sleep, then," Sam replies. "You can take more medicine after 11, okay?"

"Okay. I love you. Write the most mind-blowing speech you can while I'm asleep."

"I will," Sam promises, his cheeks burning bright red again. "I love you, too." He waits a moment for Josh to hang up first, and sighs contentedly when he does. He buries his face in his hands, lets the warmth from his blushing radiate and fill him until it makes his edges fuzzy. He's just so  _ lucky _ to call Josh  _ his _ .

**…**

As much as he loves Josh, Sam can't deny that it gets in the way of his work sometimes. He can't write now without hearing what he's typing in Josh's voice, specifically Josh's 2 AM voice, when it's all thick and smoky and tired. Sam has never needed Josh to read his work outloud to know what to fix or anything like that, he needed an excuse to hear Josh talk. Josh saw right through it, too, but he's always willing to oblige when Sam asks him to. 

"These children are already step after step behind others across the country," Josh's voice echoes in his mind. "Other children's eyes are wide open staring at computer screens while these children's eyes are closing as they stare at a blackboard. These children need their eyes opened. And when they open their eyes, they need to see the faces of teachers who are determined more than anything to teach them. To help them search the wide world in front of them for a career path that will give them the financial and personal success they deserve. These children deserve every opportunity and  _ more _ that their privileged peers in well-funded schools do—"

Sam sighs deeply, deleting the entire paragraph he'd just written. How can we give these kids the great opportunities we keep talking about when all we give their schools is the loose change in our pockets? He perks up at that thought, quickly typing it up and polishing the language a bit. That's a good line. It could be  _ the  _ line that the entire Press Corps latches onto and blazons in the subheading of every article. He can hear Bartlet's voice now, too, as he takes off his glasses and nods vigorously, muttering  _ that's good, I like that a lot _ . 

He looks up when someone knocks on his door, then smiles when he sees Donna peek in. "Come on in," he invites, standing up and grabbing a chair for her. 

"It's a slow day in Congress apparently," Donna tells him as she sits down. "I didn't think that was possible." 

"I know you work for Josh and he doesn't believe in what I'm about to say, but our Congress members  _ are _ human," Sam replies. "They get tired. They get sick of fighting and arguing all the time. Sometimes— _ sometimes _ —they get along. Hopefully today is one of those days."

"I'll tell him you said that and then he'll  _ have _ to break up with you," Donna teases.

"What about that Congresswoman from Nebraska?" Sam asks. "What's up with that bill she's trying to start?"

"One of Josh's guys told me that he talked to her and she actually has a really good idea," Donna answers, her voice chipper. "We're gonna help her get some support on our side of the aisle once a bill is written up, and hopefully the other side, too."

"Josh is gonna have a lot of work to do, huh?" Sam smiles. 

"Maybe, but she seems really nice," Donna shrugs. "But Josh will somehow find a way to get on her bad side, I'm sure."

Sam chuckles, shaking his head. "Josh hasn't pissed off  _ everyone _ in Congress yet. Maybe she could be someone on his good list." 

"I hope so," Donna smiles."How's that speech going? Need help?" 

"I wouldn't mind some help," Sam admits, aimlessly typing nonsense into the document. 

"Good, because you've started typing in a language that no one else speaks," Donna teases, pointing at his screen. "Have you and Josh developed your own secret love language or something?" 

"No," Sam chuckles, shaking his head. "But Josh's is words of affirmation, and mine is a tie between physical touch and quality time, if you're curious."

"I wasn't curious," Donna replies, then her eyebrows furrow. "And I always took you as more of an acts of service or giving and receiving gifts person."

"I'm full of surprises," Sam smirks, standing to get Donna a chair. "Do you like writing, Donna?"

"I dabbled in poetry in high school," she replies rather meekly as she sits down, taking Sam by surprise. 

"Were you any good?" Sam asks, intrigued.

"My teachers liked my essays, so I guess I'm not terrible," Donna shrugs, letting herself smile. 

"Well, maybe you could help me with this last paragraph," Sam suggests. "Endings are so touch-and-go for me."

"Can I see what you have?" Donna asks, smiling when Sam nods. He only has the one line (though it is a rather brilliant one), so her eyes scan over it quickly. "That's a really good line. But a paragraph can't be one line."

"Sure it could," Sam shrugs, then sighs tiredly. "Just not in a speech given by the President of the United States." 

"You have a really strong start, though," Donna replies encouragingly. "You're a strong writer, just keep using that strength you have in you. Say things like 'we  _ must _ create these opportunities', or 'we  _ need _ to give more funding and support to teachers like those who work for this wonderful non-profit'."

Sam nods, keeping the words Donna emphasized somewhere on his fingertips as he types until he needs them. He gets a couple more sentences out, each stronger than the first. Sam smiles to himself, imagining a gaggle of reporters deciding which to quote in their articles.

"I can hear the President saying all this," Donna remarks. "I think it'd be hard for me to read your writing without hearing his voice. I guess they're forever linked in my mind."

Sam blushes, both at Donna's compliment and remembering that his own writing is forever linked to Josh's voice in his mind. It's romantic, sure, but maybe not the best thing to do when Josh isn't the one he's writing speeches for. He mutters a quick  _ thanks _ to Donna when he realizes he's let the silence hang a little too long. 

"What are you thinking about?" Donna asks, genuinely curious.

"Josh's voice speaks every word I write in my mind," Sam admits, smiling.

Donna smiles, too. "That's so sweet," she coos. "Maybe you'll write speeches for Josh someday."

Sam shakes his head. "Josh is never gonna be a big face in politics like that. He doesn't want to, anyway. He knows what his strengths are, and addressing thousands of people isn't one of them. He's content standing behind the person who is, or off in the wings or behind a desk, way out of sight."

Donna's smile widens. "Well, then maybe he'll stand behind you someday."

"If my ambitions aren't too high, I hope so," Sam muses. "I hope he doesn't hide behind me too much, though. I wouldn't want that for him. I love him too much to shove him further into the shadows."

"You'll probably have to fight tooth and nail with him to get him out of there," she replies, her tone fond. "How is he, by the way?" 

"It's been a couple hours since I called him," Sam replies, glancing at his watch. It's a quarter past four, and Josh would've been okay to take more medicine an hour ago. He can't remember if he reminded him of that last time he called. "I think he's doing okay. I'm assuming he's taking medicine and sleeping. I feel like calling him again but I don't want to wake him up if he  _ is _ sleeping."

"Have you been calling him a lot?" Donna asks.

Sam shakes his head. "I've only called him one time. I don't want to baby him. I know he sure does  _ act _ like a baby when he's sick, but I don't want to treat him like one."

"I think he needs it sometimes," Donna replies. "He has a big, powerful position in the White House, and he has a reputation for being this arrogant asshole. He doesn't really get to be vulnerable, and he feels that way far more often than he'll admit. It's like you said, he forces himself into the shadows. He's such a private person. But it's hard being Josh Lyman. It's hard being Deputy Chief of Staff. But he doesn't let those things have the effect on him that I imagine it would. I mean, you know him just as well as I do, probably even better. You agree with me, don't you?" 

Sam nods, ruminating on Donna's words. "I do."

"I worry about him a lot," Donna admits softly, looking down at her lap.

Sam nods again. "Me, too." 

"And the thing is, as far as I can tell, he's getting better," Donna continues, looking back up at Sam. "Ever since you two got together he's been so much happier, but I can't help but brace for the moment everything suddenly isn't okay anymore. I'm afraid that some day he'll be like he was two Christmases ago. A ticking timebomb."

"I would never hurt him, Donna," Sam replies, a soft conviction in his voice he's noticed is an undeniable presence whenever he talks about Josh.

"I know you wouldn't," Donna reassures, then sighs. "I just know that someday something's gonna happen that's outside any of our control and he'll be right back at square one. All the progress he's made will be gone in an instant. I don't want that for him. I would take every challenge and tragedy the universe plans to throw his way in a heartbeat but I can't. But he's had enough tragedy, hasn't he? Hasn't he already been asked to lose more than he ever should have? Hasn't he already been asked to become a modern-day Atlas?"

"He has," Sam agrees quietly, a lump forming in his throat. He hates the idea, but Donna is right. Josh has had so much taken away from him that once he realizes something else is being taken away now, too—even the smallest, most seemingly insignificant thing—he starts grieving all over again. His heart breaks all over again. What happens when he shrugs beneath the weight of the world again?

Donna shakes her head, blinking rapidly. "Sorry," she says, her breath trembling. "I know he's your boyfriend, not mine, but… He's like my annoying older brother that teases me and calls me names but then turns around and beats a kid to an unrecognizable pulp because he was being mean to me. He protects me all the time, and I think it's time I start protecting him, too. He needs it. He stands up to my bullies, but he doesn't do the same to his own." 

Tears are beginning to roll down Donna's cheeks now. Sam doesn't reply to anything she's said, just carefully reaches out and takes Donna's hand. Thankfully, she latches onto it.

"It's been three years and I still think about the night he was shot," she chokes out, squeezing Sam's hand. "He told me he didn't need me there with him. That he would be fine by himself. It was just a college event, not a deal on the Hill that would leave the entire U.S. government in the balance. I had no idea when I got to the hospital that my big brother was dying on an operating table."

"None of us knew what was gonna happen that night, Donna," Sam tells her, taking her other hand, too. He tries to keep his voice even, tries to push back his own memories of Rosslyn. "And there was no way you could've known what happened since you weren't there. We were trying to make sure everything was taken care of before we said anything to the Press."

"Everyone at the White House was saying the President was shot," Donna replies, her voice beginning to rise. "The President's injuries were practically superficial. Josh was  _ shot in the chest _ , and no one spoke  _ a word _ of it." 

For once, Donna has left Sam speechless. Something twinges in his chest when he sees Donna tense, sees realization cross over her face.

"I'm so sorry," she stammers, pulling her hands away from his. She knits them together, squeezing until her knuckles pale. "I didn't mean that."

"It took us a few minutes to find Josh," Sam replies, thankfully finding his words again. "I always hate admitting it, but we thought he was with Leo. We thought he was in one of the cars, where he would be safe. Donna, I could never describe to you how I felt the moment we all realized we had different answers about where Josh was. That none of us  _ actually _ knew where he was. Then, the next thing I knew, Toby was yelling for a doctor and I just  _ knew _ he'd found Josh. I looked over and I saw him falling to the ground…" A sob stops Sam's voice. He takes a moment and lets it pass, lets it release a river of tears from his eyes. Donna stares at him, silent, biting her lip. "I thought he was dead. I thought he'd just dropped dead. But he didn't." He pauses, clenching his jaw. "I thought of you, you know. As much as it was killing me that my best friend had been shot, I couldn't imagine how you would react when we told you the news."

Donna tries to smile. Or, at least Sam thinks so. Either way, her lips tighten, but then wobble. She unclasps her hands and grabs Sam's again, steadying them. Sam hadn't realized he's been shaking this whole time.

"There was no way we could've protected him that night, Donna," Sam begins after taking a deep breath. "But we can protect him now. I promise I will. I promise I'll take care of him." 

"I promise, too," Donna returns, really smiling this time. "But if you do end up hurting him,  _ I'll _ beat  _ you _ to an unrecognizable pulp."

Sam laughs, but it comes out wet and thick through the lump in his throat. "I'm sure I'll deserve it." 

Donna takes her hands away again, but brings them to Sam's face to wipe away his tears. Sam quickly pulls her into a tight, tight hug. Donna is taken aback at first, but wraps her arms around him, hugging back just as tightly. 

"Don't tell Josh I said this, but you're my new best friend," Sam whispers, biting back another laugh. 

"I was just about to say the same thing," Donna replies, letting herself chuckle. 

Neither of them breaks the hug for a long minute or two, their breaths evening and eyes drying. They do break apart at the same time, releasing deep sighs of relief.

"What time is it?" Donna asks, sounding tired.

Sam is about to check his watch when there's a knock on the door. One of the interns from Josh's office opens the door.

"Sorry, Matt said I'd find you here, Donna," she says meekly. "But it's 5 and he said you can go home if you want to." 

"Okay, thank you," she replies politely, smiling sweetly. The intern returns the smile and shuts the door behind her.

"Are you gonna go home, too?" Donna asks, rising from her seat and gathering her things.

"I'll have to see what else the world has in store for me tonight," Sam replies. "I'll be fine. Call Josh when you get home, okay? Even if you wake him up from a nap, I'm sure he'll appreciate hearing from you." 

Donna grins, nodding. "I will. Have a good night, Sam. Thanks for the talk."

"You, too," Sam smiles back. "Thanks for helping with this speech."

Donna wipes the tearstains from her face, then waves goodbye. She's about to shut the door behind her, when it opens wider, revealing Toby holding his infamous bouncy ball. 

"How's it coming?" Toby asks, already bouncing his ball off the floor.

"Fine," Sam reports, not  _ quite _ lying like usual. "I just need to nail this last paragraph."

"You got Donna to help you?" Toby continues. "Then had a cry fest?"

Sam feels his stomach start to twist itself in a knot. "We had a heart-to-heart."

"I could hear you two blubbering clear as day," Toby says, stopping the bouncing to take the seat by Sam's desk. "Which is fine, I suppose. But you sure won't catch me crying over Josh Lyman." 

Images of the shaken, glassy-eyed Toby from that night fill Sam's mind, but he doesn't mention it aloud. "I know I won't," he replies, playing along. "So, you won't even have me send a message for him? 'Get well soon'? 'Come back to work or I'll skin you myself'?"

"That second one works," Toby nods, half-smiling. "So, you'll be seeing him after you leave? Tell him about all the state secrets you learned today?"

"No, I didn't learn much today," Sam replies, shrugging. He starts joking, mostly in vain, knowing what Toby is  _ really _ wanting to ask him about. "Although, Dr. McNally  _ did  _ tell me about this really nifty launch code. Josh just  _ has _ to hear about it."

Toby chuckles dryly, studying his ball as silence falls between them. "Listen, about earlier… If you and Josh are…" He waves his hands around, at a loss for words. " _ Together _ … That is… Fine. I guess."

Sam chuckles, slightly uneasy. "Well, I hope so because we'll have been together for two years in December."

Toby doesn't move. "Okay. That's… a long time to be with someone." 

"It is," Sam agrees, still laughing uncomfortably. 

"Does anyone else know?" Toby asks, his eyebrow raising slightly.

Sam is taken aback by Toby's sudden, subtle interest in the conversation. "Donna. My parents know. Josh's mom knows. We're 99% sure C.J. has figured it out, we just haven't, you know, said it out loud or anything. Actually, I'm surprised  _ you _ didn't figure it out sooner."

"You know, I think I'm surprised, too," Toby sighs, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. "Maybe I did figure it out but simply blocked the thought from my mind because I could only imagine the reaction from…" he trails off, but the words he doesn't say hang heavy and all too visible in the air. "It's probably best the general public doesn't find out," Toby shrugs once he finds his voice again. "For several reasons."

"Yeah," Sam agrees. "We're careful, Toby. It's hard, but we take every possible precaution."

"Like making personal phone calls while you're on the clock for the U.S. government?" Toby asks. Sam legitimately cannot tell if Toby is being sarcastic or not.

"If it makes you feel better, I use my personal phone when I call him," Sam replies hastily. "And today I've just been checking on him. Making sure he didn't accidentally kill himself or something. He's that mewling kitten C.J. was talking about." 

"Sam," Toby begins, softly, somehow immediately knocking down the walls Sam started building. "Be in love with Josh. Be in love with whoever you want as long as they make you happy. Honestly, you being with Josh is far more preferable than whatever you had with that call girl however long ago."

Sam blushes, bowing his head. "Laurie?" 

"Yeah. Her." Toby replies, shaking his head. 

"You'd rather me be with another man than a call girl?" Sam asks, puzzled by what Toby is implying.

"There are worse men in this world than Josh Lyman," Toby hypothesizes. 

Sam blinks as his mind, for once, becomes completely blank. "Am I dreaming?"

"Maybe we're both dreaming," Toby mutters, his eyes widening. 

"Maybe," Sam agrees, hushed. 

"I'm going back to my office and hopefully I'll wake up," Toby says, standing up. He starts to walk out of the office, but lingers by the door. He takes a moment, mumbling to himself as he finds the right words to say. He turns around, barely smiling. "I'm proud of you, Sam. Seriously. I'm happy you love someone like this. And that you've become even more yourself than you already were. Josh, too. Just… don't tell him I said that."

Sam's face splits into a grin, a relieved sigh escaping him. "Thank you, Toby."

Toby smiles fully back, a rare but nice sight. "Get back to work. You've made me all soft."

"I like seeing this side of you," Sam replies genuinely. "It's nice knowing you don't want to murder everyone on the planet  _ all _ the time." 

"I take back everything I just said," Toby declares, wiping the smile off his face. "I never said it and I never will again." His smile returns, though, but he turns and leaves the room. He starts bouncing his ball, but it's not the harsh thudding Sam has gotten used to. It's a light touch, a casual brush against the floor.

Sam leans back in his chair, sighing deeply. He never thought in a million years Toby would react this way if he ever found out about him and Josh, but he's not going to take it for granted. Not for a second.

**…**

Everyone gets to go home fairly early that night, just before 9 o'clock, and Sam couldn't be more relieved. They all needed a slower day today, and it was exactly what they got. Sam is sad Josh had to miss it. Sure, he had the day off, but he hasn't felt well the whole day. 

Sam pulls out his phone as he leaves the White House, quickly hitting his first speed dial—Josh.

"Hey," Josh mumbles on the other line, sounding exhausted.

"Hey, I'm about to head home," Sam replies, unable  _ not _ to smile when he hears Josh's voice. He'll never get over saying the word "home", either. His place, Josh's place, it doesn't matter. Both are  _ home _ .

"Good. I'm dying," Josh sighs in relief, adding a melodramatic groan at the end. 

"I'll be there as soon as I can, babe," Sam chuckles, rolling his eyes. "Don't die before I get there, okay? I'll be very upset if you do."

"I can see the light, Sam," Josh replies, making his voice sound strained and labored. "It's so beautiful." 

"Like  _ you're _ going to heaven," Sam scoffs teasingly. 

"I've always thought I was going to hell, too, love, but lo and behold, heaven is right in front of me." Josh wheezes then, the most exaggerated thing Sam has ever heard. "I can touch it." 

"I'm getting in my car, just hold on for five more minutes," Sam reassures, a little too close to belly laughing. "And I'm pretty sure you're delirious, not actually dying."

Josh laughs, quiet but sweet. "Yeah, this Tamiflu is doing things to me. Hurry home, though. I miss you." 

"Want me to stay on the phone while I drive there?" Sam asks with a smile, merging into traffic.

"Yes, please," Josh sighs, chuckling again. He trails off, and Sam lets the silence hang. "You know, it was the weirdest thing, Donna called me a few hours ago. Did you have anything to do with that?"

"I may or may not have told her to call you when she got home," Sam replies. 

"It was all… mushy gushy stuff about how she's worried about me or whatever," Josh continues, his voice becoming sincere. "It was sweet, but I'm not used to hearing that from Donna. She  _ nags _ me usually, but this time was different. I, uh… I really appreciated it, actually."

Sam grins, warmth filling his chest. "Did you tell her that?"

"I did," Josh confirms, and Sam can hear him smiling, too. "I'm not  _ that  _ terrible of a person. Besides, Donna's like my annoying, bratty little sister. I love her a lot." 

"How can you  _ not _ love Donna, really?" Sam asks.

"You  _ can't _ not love Donna!" Josh agrees emphatically. "So, you really told her to call me? What brought that idea up?"

"I'll tell you when I get home," Sam promises. "I'm only a couple of blocks away." 

"Oh," Josh replies dumbly, slightly taken aback. "Okay."

"It's nothing bad, babe," Sam reassures him. "I'll just be another minute or two."

"Okay," Josh sighs. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Sam returns, turning onto Josh's street.

"I'll unlock the door," Josh says, the smile returning to his voice. "I know you have 50 keys to rifle through every time you come over." 

"Then what's the point of giving me a key?" Sam teases.

"Symbolic, I guess," Josh chuckles. "Oh, I can see you pulling up. You've come to save me, Sam Seaborn."

"I sure have, Josh Lyman," Sam plays along, parking on the street. He hangs up as he gets out of his car. If he squints, he can see Josh standing at the window, waving and grinning. He disappears as Sam walks up the door, but he hears the door unlock. The door opens, and Josh is still in the same, ratty pajamas he's been wearing all weekend. But he's smiling, and his eyes don't look as bleary. 

Sam jogs the rest of the way up the stairs, kissing Josh as soon as the door shuts behind them. The kiss is gentle, more of a greeting, really, but it's a relief to kiss Josh again since early this morning. Josh tries to say "hello" but Sam keeps kissing him. Josh's mouth tastes like the syrupy medicine he's been taking all day, but the  _ feeling _ of Josh's lips against his is what Sam has been needing. 

"Sam," Josh chuckles, taking Sam's face in his hand and pulling him away. "I love you, but I'm a little tired for this right now."

Sam blushes, nodding. "Sorry." 

"What did you wanna tell me?" Josh asks softly, fraily taking Sam's hands in his.

"Donna and I talked for a while about you," Sam replies, just as softly. He lets Josh run his thumbs over his knuckles, soothe himself with the touch.

"Why?" Josh asks, frowning slightly. 

"We love you too much," Sam answers, shrugging. "And we worry about you too much, too."

Josh's fingers climb up Sam's wrist, finding his pulse. His fingers squeeze lightly, and Sam feels his heartbeat hammering a little faster than usual. "Why do you worry about me?" Josh asks after a moment, something like fear in his voice.

"We work at the White House, Josh," Sam shrugs again. "Anything can happen. Anything can happen to you, me, Donna, the President, C.J., Toby, Charlie, Leo."

"See, that's what I don't like to think about," Josh chuckles dryly, shaking his head. 

"We don't have to think about it," Sam reassures him. "We just worry about you. That's all."

Josh nods slowly, sighing deeply and slowly. "I know. People tend to worry about me, it just depends on their relationship to me." He chuckles again, a little more convincing this time. 

Sam manages a light chuckle, bringing Josh's hand up to his lips to kiss his knuckles. He lets his lips linger on the warm, fragile skin there, lets his eyes close. 

"I'm okay with you worrying about me," Josh says softly. When Sam opens his eyes and looks at him, a half-smile sits peacefully on his face. Sam returns it, tilting his chin up to kiss Josh again. Josh kisses him back this time, grinning into it. "Worry about me all you want."

"Have you eaten?" Sam asks, kissing the tip of Josh's nose.

"Does cereal count?" Josh chuckles. "I had one bowl at every meal. I'd say that's pretty good for someone with the flu." 

"I suppose," Sam concedes. "Have you been resting?"

"I've taken  _ several _ naps today, thank you," Josh sneers teasingly. "I am  _ the king _ of resting." 

"When was the last time you took medicine?" Sam asks, trying to glance over his shoulder and see if he sees all the medicine he left for Josh somewhere.

"7 o'clock," Josh replies confidently. "Right on time."

"When was the last time you took a shower?" Sam asks, knowing he'll stump Josh this time.

Josh's facade slips for a moment, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. He restores it, though. He puts his hands on Sam's hips, swaying him side to side in a lazy slow dance. "Friday morning?" he answers uncertainly, twirling Sam to distract him. 

"You need to take a shower," Sam tells him. "That steam and hot water will break up all the congestion in your nose and your lungs. Also, you'll just feel better because you'll be  _ and _ feel clean." 

"I love you and all your old wives' tales," Josh grins, the faintest hints of blush coloring his cheeks. 

"I know you do," Sam replies, blushing much harder. "You know, I could use a shower, too."

Josh's blush deepens now, too. "Sam, I love you so much, but shower sex is the  _ last  _ thing I want right now—"

"That's not what I'm suggesting," Sam laughs, shaking his head. "I don't know, I just thought we shouldn't waste water by taking separate showers."

Josh rolls his eyes fondly. He knows as well as Sam does that the "wasting water" excuse is something Sam pulled out of thin air. They've showered together before a few times, and they always end up wasting much more water than they would otherwise. But neither of them mind. Excuses will do for now. "All right. You win." 

Sam gives Josh a victory kiss, letting their foreheads rest against each other when their lips break apart. "What was that really dumb thing you said that one day? 'I drink from the keg of glory'?" 

"We don't talk about that day," Josh chuckles, kissing Sam again to get him to shut up. Barely pulling away, he asks quietly, "How about that shower?"

**…**

Their clothes are in the corner of Josh's bathroom (folded in a neat pile, thanks to Sam), where they kissed for the first time, almost two years ago. Sam is washing Josh's hair, leaving piles of suds everywhere. Sam bites back a giggle.

"What is it?" Josh asks, chuckling.

"There's suds on your ears and it looks like little hats," Sam replies, letting himself fully giggle.

"And you say  _ I _ act like a five-year-old," Josh laughs, knocking his head against Sam's chest, leaving a small cloud of suds there. 

"And you just made your own point," Sam points out, wiping the suds away. 

"I can turn this shower off," Josh retorts, reaching for the valve. "It  _ is my _ shower."

"Go ahead," Sam invites, smirking. "Good luck getting all that soap out of your hair." 

Josh leans back again, closing his eyes. "Fine. Keep washing my hair, love. It feels good."

"Fine," Sam huffs, shaking his head. He likes the way his hands feel in Josh's hair, his scalp. 

Josh immediately relaxes, his shoulders slacking and a quiet sigh leaving his lips. Every time Sam peers over to fully see Josh's face, there's a blissful smile there, one that Sam didn't see often before, but is beginning to see more and more now. 

"Anything else to report from today?" Josh asks casually, opening his eyes and looking up at Sam.

Sam chuckles. "Toby knows about us now."

"Toby?" Josh repeats, his feelings unclear from his tone of voice. 

"I may or may not have let it slip," Sam sighs, shrugging.

"What'd he say?" Josh asks, rather warily.

"He's proud of me," Sam answers, smiling at the memory of a softer, more caring Toby. "And he's proud of you, too."

"Really?" Josh replies, his smile returning slowly.

"He said there are worse men in this world than you," Sam says, his chest warming for the millionth time that day. "And I think he implied that every call girl is worse than you, which I think is a bit ignorant of him." 

"Every call girl  _ ever _ ?" Josh clarifies.

"I guess so," Sam answers with a chuckle. 

"Wait, they're worse than me at what?" Josh asks, rather puzzled. "Sex? Because I'm sure you can answer  _ that _ question." 

"Hush," Sam shakes his head, beginning to wash the soap out of Josh's hair. "I  _ could _ , but I'm not going to." 

Josh shakes his head, too, sending a small shower of water everywhere, droplets of diamonds dripping down his face. He turns, rather awkwardly in the cramped space, crashing his lips into Sam's. Sam kisses back, almost on instinct. Josh's lips—and Josh himself, really—is a magnet; the north to Sam's south. 

"This is why we waste water," Sam jokes against Josh's lips. "We always end up making out. We only just now washed your hair." He pulls away, turning and reaching for Josh's body wash. But Josh leans forward, lightly kissing where his neck curves into his shoulder, his collarbone. Sam pulls away a little further, and the only place Josh's lips can reach is his bicep. "I think I liked you better when you had an 103-degree fever. You were too delirious to try and give me hickeys."

Josh pulls away now, blushing. "Sorry." 

"It's okay," Sam chuckles, gathering a blob of soap onto his palm. "Don't worry about it. We can stay in here for a while once we're done and make out if you want to."

Josh smiles, nodding. "I'd like that."

Sam puts his hands on Josh's shoulder, rubbing in the soap until they dissolve into suds. He goes down Josh's arms until he reaches his hands, finding an excuse to hold onto them tightly and rub them softly together, both becoming clean, everything dirtying their skin floating weightless between them. 

Sam tries to tell himself not to hesitate when he needs to move on to Josh's chest. He's done this plenty of times, but he supposes it's his protective nature coming into play again. The skin forming Josh's scar isn't as fragile anymore, and it seems to blend more and more into the skin surrounding it every day. It'll never disappear completely, but it's aging, blushing.

Sam's hands pass over the scar just as gently as they have anywhere else on Josh's body, knowing they won't tear it open, but it's still sacred and precious. Josh doesn't tense or try and shy away from the contact, either. Josh can look at his scar now, too, thankfully. Sam would never say it out loud, but he noticed before how Josh would keep his eyes forward whenever he buttoned his shirts, feeling out where each button should notch into place. He doesn't do that anymore, and hasn't for a while, and Sam can't help but sigh in relief every time he sees Josh look at the buttons of his shirt.

Sam leaves the lightest, gentlest kisses everywhere on Josh's body as water rushes over it—down his spine, up his ribcage, on the nape of his neck, behind his ears, along his jaw. If he wasn't sitting down, he's sure his knees would've buckled when he swears he hears Josh say,  _ if I wasn't clean before, I feel like I am now. _ Sam kisses Josh's lips then, whether he dreamed the words or not, because how could he ever give up an opportunity to kiss those lips?

"I love you so much," Sam whispers, so quietly it could be mistaken for the sound of their lips breaking away from each other—the grieved sigh of the waves as they try and cling to the shore but are swept back to sea. 

"I love you, too," Josh returns, smiling. He kisses Sam on the cheek as he goes to reach for the shampoo. "Now let me wash your hair." 

Sam nods, his own smile leaving a blissful ache to settle in his cheeks.  _ He heard me. _ "Okay." 

Sam nearly falls asleep as Josh's fingers massage into his scalp, his skin, his entire body feeling like it's falling into some heavenly refuge. Josh's hands feel like a world of their own sometimes. His palms are slightly rough from holding onto things too tightly that still somehow manage to slip away. His fingertips are softer than down from being dragged across countless sheets of paper, the answers to every political puzzle softly etching in the whorls, arches, and loops of their prints. Sam always thought nothing should be completely soft nor completely rough, and Josh's hands are a perfect combination of both. 

Josh kisses Sam's eyelids, wordlessly inviting them to open and look at him. Sam accepts the invitation, and the first thing he sees is his own eyelash resting on Josh's chin, a near-perfect crescent. He smiles, carefully picking it off Josh's face, leaving behind a light kiss. 

"I wanna keep going," Josh says, gently touching the spot on his chin. "But can we do it in my bed?"

Sam nods, his nose rubbing against Josh's. "Of course." 

They leave their clothes in the corner of the bathroom, deciding they can take care of them in the morning. They certainly won't need them tonight. 

There's still diamond-dust in their hair, lingering on their skin as they fall into each other. Sam follows the faded trail of water down Josh's inner thighs with his lips, hears the hitches in Josh's breath. Josh's hands tangle into Sam's hair, guiding him along his body. 

A Greek chorus begins to sing between them, a gentle call and response.  _ Is this okay? Yes. Can I touch you here? Yes. Do you want me to keep going? Yes. _

Josh pauses when Sam's lips draw nearer to his scar, so Sam pauses, too, as the chorus falls silent. He looks up at Josh, whose eyes are shining in the darkness. He just barely makes out the movement of Josh's head; an inviting nod. 

Sam kisses the scar, remembering Josh's words earlier.  _ If I wasn't clean before, I feel like I am now.  _ Maybe Sam's kisses can heal as well as cleanse. Maybe a single kiss can heal Josh for a moment. 

Sam's lips trail the length of the scar, moving slowly. Sam can almost feel Josh's heartbeat against his lips, hammering yet somehow tranquil at the same time. Josh's heart is racing not out of fear or desperation, but out of love, knowing it can leap and sprint and Sam will always catch it. 

The night draws to a close as Sam's lips finally reach Josh's in a slow, passionate kiss. This kiss is a lullaby of its own, warmth and familiarity and safety. A quiet, sparkling song that is beautiful sung by any voice. A song written by heaven itself split into two pieces: a melody and a harmony. Once the two pieces find each other, they can swap places between their two hearts—as long as they're still sung together. 

Josh's lips still after a few minutes, the small, measured breaths of sleep escaping them. Sam kisses them one last time, softly and all too briefly. 

He doesn't sleep for a while, choosing instead to stay awake and keep Josh pulled close to his chest. He traces the distance between the freckles on Josh's back, so familiar with the shape they form that he doesn't need to try to see in the darkness. It's a nonsense shape, a cluster of loops and curls. Sam doesn't think he could ever think of a name for it, but he's okay with that. He's okay being the only person in the world who knows that this shape exists, too. He's okay with taking this secret to his grave. 

The sun is nearly rising when Sam kisses Josh's forehead, his eyes closing when the warmth he'd found there before has cooled.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! feel free to leave a kudos or comment if you're comfortable. im a sucker for validation aljdhfjdf
> 
> hope you're safe and well, my friend!


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